


If love is what you need...

by IAmNotOneOfThem



Series: AO3 Fundraiser Auction Oneshots [1]
Category: Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: 00Q - Freeform, AO3 Fundraiser Auction, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Psychological Trauma, Rape Aftermath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-30
Updated: 2013-05-30
Packaged: 2017-12-13 11:36:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/823859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmNotOneOfThem/pseuds/IAmNotOneOfThem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years ago, James was raped by a group of man who kidnapped him. Now, years later, he still suffers from the aftermath.</p><p>But he has Q, and things are fine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If love is what you need...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tracionn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tracionn/gifts).



> This is the first of the four oneshots tracionn requested in exchange for money on behalf of the AO3 Fundraiser Auction I participated in.
> 
>  
> 
> _It contains mentions of rape and trauma; please mind the warnings._
> 
>  
> 
> I hope you'll like it, dear!
> 
> \---
> 
> Beta-read by Bardlover1

Clothes were quickly abandoned on the side of their bed, shirts falling, trousers being thrown away and eventually socks following. Not for a second did James part from Q’s lips, sucking the other’s lower lip between his own, nibbling, using teeth and tongue and everything he could think of to drive his lover wild.

When it came to the point both of them were naked, James paused for a long moment, took a deep breath and had to collect himself.

It had been a few years ago. A mission gone wrong, captors who decided that there was something worse than being tortured by all kinds of weapons, knives  and hot iron; captors whose laughter still echoed in James’ brain whenever he tried to forget, whenever he tried to stop himself from panicking.

He had Q now. He didn’t need to worry, because his lover understood, but he still caught himself wondering if he was being too brutal, too quick; if Q’s moans were moans of pain, if his reactions were calculated and not genuine, if he was just trying to please James.

Q pulled James’ mind away from the darkness reigning in the corners of James’ brain, consuming his sanity, by deepening the kiss, licking over James’ lips and lifting his hips to roll them against James’, erection resting on his lower belly.

They looked into each other’s eyes and Q gave a reassuring nod, tilting his head to look at the bottle of lube resting on top of the bedside table. Their times together weren’t exactly planned, but both knew what they wanted from the other when they took the evenings off at the same day. Dinner, sometimes in restaurants, sometimes at home, gentle kisses exchanged between the glasses of wine and the bites of the cake Q made the day before, and now they were here.

James’ arms wrapped around Q’s slender frame, holding him tight as if he was afraid he would vanish and disappear anytime soon, Q’s legs going around James’ waist; a smile on his lips, eyes sparkling in a soft light.

“Are you s-“

“Yes,” Q interrupted, moving backwards, arms under his head to make himself comfortable. He moved his legs up until James could reach out, fingers slicked up with a lot of lube grazing over his hole. “I’m certain.”

Carefully, very slowly, James pushed the first one in, only following with a second as Q told him to do so. His hesitation was visible in every move he made; he took more than enough time to prep Q thoroughly, scissoring his fingers, moving them down to the knuckle and brushing over Q’s prostate several times before he even considered replacing them with his cock.

Rolling on a condom, he slicked himself up, some of the lube going down on the duvet because it was just too much, but he could never be careful enough. James took a deep breath, moved against Q and encouraged him to throw his legs over James’ shoulders; he held him steady, waited until Q seemed ready and then, inch by inch, pushed inside.

Q moaned, laid his head back; James only moved when he saw pleasure in Q’s features, only when he was certain that Q wasn’t in pain.

He set a slow, loving rhythm, ignoring the voices in his head telling him that he was hurting Q.

With every gasp, every moan and every breath hitching audibly, his resolve crumbled, muscles tense in worry. Q was in pain, wasn’t he? He was trying to hide it, of course, was trying to act like he wasn’t, but James could see it and his heart clutched in his chest.

“You worry too much,” Q said and pulled James out of his thoughts, looking up at him with a soft smile, “I’m fine. This is wonderful.”

James just nodded, trying so hard to believe him.

Once again he pushed inside after drawing away a bit, thrusting in with a bit more force, a bit deeper in. Q did moan, but just for a second he could see him frown.

In a moment James was out, had moved backwards until he had fallen off the bed and felt the wall pressing against his back, trying to breathe but it hurt. The agent pressed a hand on his chest, feeling muscles and scars and a heartbeat which was too quick to be normal. Breathing became a struggle, a fight; this was war, and he’d die with his finger on the trigger.

“James?”

Q had been in pain. He had tried to hide it, but James had seen the frown, had heard the hesitation and delay in his moan. It had been faked. There was no other explanation, no other reason for Q to react like that; James had hurt him, James was the reason for his pain.

James closed his eyes, beginning to hyperventilate.

Torture he could deal with. It happened so often to him that it almost didn’t hurt anymore, a few more scars, a bit of unpleasant itching and the procedure of going through a new evaluation, getting stitches and a week to a month off, it was nothing but annoying to him by now.

The scars he had were physical.

They didn’t reach his brain, didn’t reach his heart; he didn’t wake up in the middle of the night panting because of them, they didn’t affect him like _this_ did.

Two years ago, James was raped.

A mission went wrong and he was in the hands of several men who spontaneously decided that they’d get more reactions from him if they broke him first. One after another, they raped him brutally, leaving James with a feeling he had never had before.

He had been in pain. It affected him, it hurt and it had nearly made him want to cry, but he had tried to keep up the fight. Hadn’t even reported it to anyone but M who had insisted on a rape kit even though the men were all dead by the time a rescue team came.

Vesper had understood. He had loved her so much, had not been able to let go of her, had found comfort in her words and had listened to them; had clung onto them like a man drowning.

Now he had Q, and Q too did listen, but he didn’t betray him.

Q who said that it didn’t matter to him that James couldn’t bottom, that he preferred to be in that position anyway; they made it work. Q was like an angel coming down to hell, pulling James out of his misery and trauma and trying to bring back the times when he had enjoyed having sex.

It had become a motion, a chore; he bedded woman after woman, tried to make it as enjoyable as possible for them and hid his worries behind a mask of calm and pleasure he didn’t feel. It took Q one instance of them being together to find that out and less than an hour to break down his walls, to make James tell him what had happened.

The comments he expected never came. 

Q had just nodded, smiled and assured James that it was fine. He guided James through their first time together, their first anal sex; told James when it was enough preparation, assured him that it was normal that he felt a bit uncomfortable at first, had to loosen up a bit. For the first time in years, sex had brought the agent pleasure again.

He had enjoyed sex again, had looked forward to the evenings together with Q in bed, skin against skin, sweat and moans and gasps, Q’s body under his or on top of it as they had sex, when Q rode him or let James fuck him, found pleasure in each other. 

_ They didn’t even prepare him.  _

_ James had never been with a man before but even he knew that preparation was needed, that otherwise it could hurt or cause bleeding or leave behind damage. He didn’t even think it would hurt this much but as the first one drove into him with one strong thrust, he couldn’t help but groan out in pain and clutch his hands into fists; the marks his nails had left behind visible in his palms even hours after they were gone, leaving him alone. _

James took a deep breath and laid his head back against the wall, feeling as if his heart was trying to escape from his chest. 

It hurt. 

There was no other way to describe the sensation of panicking, of remembering everything; from their touches to their laughter to the way they touched James’ skin with their dirty hands, _wrapping them around James’ cock, making him come when he didn’t want to._

_ Betrayed by his own body which reacted to the stimulation while his soul was bleeding. _

“James...”

He opened his eyes and saw Q kneeling in front of him, cock soft between his legs and blush gone. His eyes ran over James’ body, trying to figure out if he needed any medical help.

After a few moments, Q wrapped his arms around James’ torso and pulled him close, sitting down on James’ lap to be closer. He guided the agent’s head down to his shoulder, let him rest it there; James inhaled and exhaled deeply, burying his face in Q’s neck and clinging onto him.

Q hummed softly, lifting a hand to stroke through James’ short hair.

“It’s fine,” he mumbled, “it’s all fine.”

James mumbled something incoherent Q seemed to understand because he laughed; the sound so angelic, soothing and beautiful that James calmed down a bit, managed to look up and blink at his lover. His vision was blurry and with shame James had to admit that he felt like crying.

Or maybe he was.

He didn’t know, couldn’t feel his own body anymore.

“You didn’t hurt me,” Q said and cupped James’ face, looking into his eyes, “not a second. You hear me? I’m fine. It felt overwhelmingly good when you thrust into me and I’m so proud, okay? I’m so proud that you had enough courage to try more.”

“You frowned.”

“I didn’t, James. It felt good and you have to trust me with that.” Q let his hands drop down again, but didn’t move, didn’t blink. He waited until James’ breathing calmed and evened out again, a shiver running down his spine as the cold air of the room hit his bare skin. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” James said without hesitation, reaching up to pull Q close again, “completely.”

“Then trust me with this.”

James just nodded and kissed Q’s head, inhaled his scent, nuzzled his hair. He had an addiction, a fetish; he could spend hours stroking Q’s hair, combing through his curls, kissing his head. Q was like a big cat, melting under his touch and humming which was his version of a purr.

He was the best thing that ever happened to James.

“Come back to bed?” Q stood up and offered his hand, his smile calming and soft.

James took it and twined their fingers, getting up on his feet and following Q back to bed. The panic was gone as he kissed Q, tasted his skin and showing his gratitude by worshipping his lover’s body; every inch, every spot, lips trailing over his collarbones, over his chest and down to his belly.

Q’s moans echoed from the walls, filled the room, and it was the most beautiful noise James ever heard. 

_...a soldier I will be. _

**Author's Note:**

> Tracionn's prompt:
> 
>  _"Bond once has been raped (either Silva or way earlier in his life, it was brutal however). Now he's in love with Q and they just started a relationship._  
>  Bond can't be the bottom and that's fine for Q of course (being a natural bottom himself) but Bond also has immense difficulties topping Q as he fears so much to hurt him, remembering his own pain. Q wouldn't or isn't in pain but Bond struggles.  
> Would be great if there even was an aborted try during which Bond - when he sees Q's face in frowns thinking it is pain when it is actually pleasure - has to stop and has panics a bit?  
> Q is all understanding and supporting please. Again happy ending please!!"


End file.
